


Presence

by SomeRainMustFall



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Mpreg, Older Man/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeRainMustFall/pseuds/SomeRainMustFall
Summary: It’s not their first Christmas together—their second, actually—but it’s just...different this year.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38
Collections: Prodigal Son Holidays Fic Exchange





	Presence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zoejoy24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoejoy24/gifts).



> Thank you for remaining the one constant in my life all year, love! I am forever grateful for you. Merry Christmas ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Gil.”

From another aisle, Malcolm hears Gil _snort._ He thinks it’s funny! This is a _serious matter!_

“You have to go _away._ ”

“Kid, I swear, I’m not even looking!”

“It’s the fact that you _could_ look! It’s supposed to be a _surprise!_ ”

"Oh my _God_ ," Gil says, so _dramatically,_ and then finally heads off and _away_ from Malcolm, putting a good distance between them before Malcolm's satisfied.

“Better?” he asks, with a gesture that knocks a stuffed animal in a Santa hat off a display, and he fumbles with it while Malcolm snickers, gives him a thumbs-up, and turns back to the Christmas cards on the wall.

Of course he bought one for Gil weeks ago—he's got two, actually—but he's never been to _this_ store before, and he wants to make sure none of them outdo the ones he has. And if they do, he's going to buy them, too. It’s not like he can have too _many._

It’s not their first Christmas together—their second, actually—but it’s just...different this year. They’ve been talking a lot about their future, about the exciting idea of maybe getting married one day, about...even more.

About having a family. A real one, together.

Before Gil, Malcolm had never _seriously_ thought about it. He’d joke and lie for the sake of his mother’s woes, but he’d never even planned on finding someone—Gil had always been his dream, but never one he thought he could _have—_ let alone _actually_ creating something of his own blood with them, of—

Of Martin’s, by extension. It should be his duty to let his bloodline die with him _,_ and he’d never considered otherwise.

But...Gil.

_Gil._

It would be Gil’s. They would have Gil’s DNA in them, too, and surely... _surely_ that gave them a better chance. With pieces of a man so good, so brave, so _loving_ within them...how could they possibly turn out anything less than perfect? And he'd thought about it before, long before it came up between them, and always considered it something that would never happen, that maybe Gil didn’t even _want_.

But he _does._ And now, faced with the option, the real possibility, Malcolm is scared. He doesn't feel like he knows the first thing about it, even though he's been learning, and the _fear_ he feels at the very thought of them having a childhood anything even _close_ to his…

What if he loses himself? What if he yells at them, makes them fear him, _hate_ him? What if he hurts them in a night terror, or scares them into never feeling safe again?

What if, maybe even worse than turning out like Martin, they turn out like _him?_

Gil is never anything less than wonderful. He tells Malcolm any child would be _lucky_ to be as wonderful as him, but Malcolm doesn't much believe it. The pain he feels, even if it's become a bit less over the years—specifically after he'd stopped going to see his father some eleven months ago, and cut off all communication from him—is something he'd never want anyone in the world to go through.

Especially not someone so innocent...so tiny and fragile...someone who, just like him, never _asked_ to be brought into such a cruel, shitty world...

What if they ended up wanting to leave it as much as he used to? As much as he, in his worst moments, still sometimes does?

It terrifies him. But the light in Gil's eyes whenever the subject is brought up...it's beautiful, hopeful, excited. Malcolm can see just how _happy_ the idea makes him, how much he wants it, though he knows Gil would never push, never even say it aloud.

And eventually, after dozens of late night talks and conversations with his therapist and hours of research, after enough love from Gil, enough reassurance…Malcolm's fear settled enough for him to consider just how much he _loves_ kids. He thought about his previously impossible fantasies of having a family with Gil, more real than ever now, and about how _nice_ it would be to share something so precious with the love of his life. To have someone part of them—of _Gil—_ to love unconditionally, to bring up so much better than either of them had gotten, to be a _family._ He started to get _teary_ at the very thought.

So they finally, really tried, a little over a month ago now. And despite all of his confidence, Malcolm had gotten so sick with anxiety he could hardly _breathe_ through the days it took until the test could be taken.

Gil, though. As always before, he’d helped him. He’d talked Malcolm down, every time he struggled, held him close and told him no matter what, things were going to be okay. Made him _know,_ for certain, that even if they never, ever had a child together, even if it was just them forever, he would still love Malcolm just the same.

Malcolm had _cried_ when the result was negative. He’d been forced to think about how it’s entirely possible he’s not fertile at all, that he's damaged beyond repair from his medications and the sheer amount of stress over his life. He’d been forced to acknowledge that this might never happen, anyways, and he'd spiraled into a week-long depression that he couldn't drag himself out of no matter how much love Gil gave to him, no matter how many times he told Malcolm it was okay, because for the first time Malcolm had no doubt in his mind of what he wanted, and _that_ scared him even more. It took so much out of them both that neither of them have spoken much about it again, trying to go about life as normal.

Malcolm knows Gil thinks he's pressured him into it, but he hasn't. He knows Gil is waiting for _him_ to be ready, trusts Gil with all of his heart.

Malcolm believes he is ready, now, truly. He wants this, he wants Gil’s child, more than anything. And he thinks tomorrow, Christmas, would be a perfect time to try again.

He's got...a few other ideas up his sleeve, too, to make it as memorable as possible…

Something catches his eye, glinting in the light, and he finds himself staring down at the glitter-covered front of a card depicting an angel among crosses.

His hand twitches, but doesn’t tremble too much. He clenches it anyways, for safety, but he’s able to turn away, to breathe deep, to go back to searching through cards until he finds one that he really likes.

He hopes by next year, he’ll be able to buy the ones that say _husband._

Gil is roaming about the store, picking up things here and there to look at, and Malcolm waits till he sets down a very breakable looking ornament to sneak up behind him and kiss him on the shoulder.

Gil sucks in a quiet, startled breath and turns to him, one eyebrow raised. “Done? Ready?”

“I thought of him,” he murmurs, before he can stop himself, and Gil lowers his voice, tilts down to Malcolm’s level. He looks Malcolm over, looking for a tremor, or tears, or anything out of place.

“Are you okay?”

Malcolm smiles, and proudly announces, “I am. _Really_.”

Gil smiles, wrapping Malcolm up in his arms, hugs him tight and sighs into his hair, “I love you so much, kid…so damn much.”

Despite how he really does feel okay, Gil’s touch is still something he always needs. Most times he doesn’t even realize just how much, doesn’t know how starved for love he’s feeling until suddenly Gil’s hands are somewhere on him, pulling him against a steady chest, a soft sweater or bare skin, and he's lifted someplace better.

 _Home._ Gil is home.

"I love you, too," he says, a little tearful despite himself.

Two years since John Watkins. Two years longer than he should have survived. The pain is always greater on the anniversary, and he knows it will be worse tonight, when he'll likely touch over the scar Watkins left and cry over the memory of being so frightened and helpless. He's not sure he won't feel off tomorrow, either.

But Gil will be there to help him through it, just like always. Just like he was when Malcolm had thought he'd ruined their _first_ Christmas together, because even after a year of healing he still hadn't been able to leave his bed the day of.

Gil always assures him otherwise. Tells Malcolm he could never ruin anything, that, as long as they're together, everything is better than it ever could be apart.

He breathes in deep, excited for tonight, and pulls back to plant a kiss on Gil's lips, smiling.

"More?" he asks. "Lots of stores we haven't gone in…"

Gil glances down at all he's carrying, six bags compared to his own two, and makes a face. Malcolm bumps him with his shoulder and starts walking.

"What are you _looking_ at? Huh? It's nothing!"

"Sure is a lot of bags, for nothing," Gil says, and Malcolm tries his _best_ but still can't hold back a smirk. He _definitely_ hasn't been buying nearly everything Gil happens to look at with interest while they browse...

"I'm shopping for _everyone_ , Gil…"

"I sure hope so."

"Come on…" He slows, tugging Gil's hand down to lower him a bit in the middle of the _very_ crowded mall and murmuring up into his ear, "You don't like being spoiled, Daddy?"

Gil's breath leaves him in a shudder, and Malcolm hums. So _easy…_ he knows just what to say to distract, _always,_ and Gil knows it. He _only_ uses his powers for good…

"I like other things you do more," Gil says back, and Malcolm hums.

"Like _what,_ Daddy?"

"Like things I can't say in public, because my baby's not very _subtle_ when he squirms."

Malcolm hears himself whine softly in response. Gil _laughs,_ happily back in control, and Malcolm bumps him again.

"Want some coffee? I want some coffee."

" _Thirsty,_ " Gil teases, and Malcolm _pushes_ him this time, sticks out his tongue as Gil feigns a stumble and smirks. He sits down on one of the benches nearby, and lets out a sigh that lets Malcolm know he needs to rest for a bit, anyways. "Surprise me? I'll watch the bags."

"Long as you promise not to look…"

"Well...if you take long enough, I might get bored…"

Malcolm scoffs, offloading his bags to the tile by Gil's feet and blowing him a kiss that makes him feel a bit like Ainsley as he goes off into the coffee shop.

Immediately he's uncomfortable. Always used to having Gil at his side in crowded places, boosting his confidence, it starts to falter when he's alone again. Not enough he can't pretend everything's fine—it's what he always did before. But more than enough to notice, especially now. It seems different, somehow. He’s been clinging, he knows, for the past week or so, because he’s been feeling so _strange,_ but this is getting ridiculous. He feels...sad, however silly that is. Gil is _right there_ outside; if Malcolm tilts back just a bit, he could probably see him through the open glass doors.

He frowns, shifting about as the pit in his belly grows. He’s been getting sad over the absolute _stupidest_ things lately, but... _this?_ He's never like this...he can handle being away from Gil just _fine,_ he does it all the time at work and off, he...he just… _loves_ him, so much...he's _lonely…_ how is suddenly so lonely? It's fucking _overwhelming,_ and he doesn't even _want_ coffee anymore, but if he doesn't get Gil's, then Gil will be _disappointed…_ he can't disappoint Gil, he just...he wants…

He doesn't know when he started _crying_ , just that suddenly the woman behind the counter is asking if he's okay, and the people in line are staring at him, and he can’t _handle_ this, he just—he just wants—

"Sorry—" he chokes, and slides past the others to get _out_ of here, and in the fifteen steps it takes to get to Gil his chest is heaving and he can't _see_ and Gil looks _terrified_ when he finally blinks away enough of the tears to find him.

" _Kid,_ " Gil whispers, taking him by the shoulders, steadying him as his knees shake and threaten to buckle. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Malcolm can't even _answer,_ just sputters incoherently and shakes his head, and Gil looks around before starting to usher him forward.

"The _gifts,_ " Malcolm weeps, and Gil tsks, turning back to clumsily scoop them all up on one arm and then leading Malcolm to the nearest bathroom with the other.

Mercifully it's empty, and Gil sets the bags down and holds Malcolm in front of the sink. "Hey, _hey..._ my love...tell me what happened? Please?"

" _Nothing,_ " Malcolm finally manages to whimper, too loudly, hating the way his voice sounds as it echoes about the tiled room. "I just—I just—"

He leans his head forward, against Gil's chest. "I just... _love_ you...I don't _know,_ Gil, I just... _missed_ you."

"Oh, _baby,_ " Gil murmurs, laughing softly, hugging him tight. "Hey...I'm right here! Baby...oh my _God,_ you're adorable, come here…"

He cups Malcolm's face, tilting his head up to kiss him. "That's so _sweet…_ you just...missed me?"

"I don't know," Malcolm mumbles, looking away, because now he's _embarrassed,_ and Gil pinches his cheek.

"I love you, Bright. Jesus, you had me worried it was about…or...if someone said something…"

"I just feel _weird,_ " he whines, and Gil takes a paper towel from the counter, runs it under the tap before starting to dab gently at Malcolm's tear-stained face.

"Sick to your stomach again?"

"No...not anymore. I don’t feel _sick,_ just…”

"That's good. That wouldn't be fair at all...you can't be sick for Christmas."

Malcolm hums in agreement, watching Gil, focusing on his lips with the most sudden, unexpected _need,_ and then grasps Gil's hips and pushes his own forward against him. Gil _yelps,_ dropping the towel as his back hits the wall, and Malcolm giggles, still sniffling from his tears.

"I can't be sick...I need to give you your present... _presents_ …"

"Bright," Gil whispers, looking anxiously towards the door as Malcolm leans up to kiss at his neck. " _Jesus_ —what's gotten into you? Are you sure you're okay?"

“Need you,” Malcolm groans softly, rolling his hips against him, and Gil reaches up, grasping Malcolm's hair.

" _Yeah…_ but you were just crying a second ago…"

Malcolm nips over Gil’s jaw, captures Gil’s lips in a kiss. "Thought of better things to do with my mouth…"

"Holy _hell, kid—"_

Malcolm fists his sweater with a grin, pulling him into one of the stalls.

"The bags—"

"I'll be quick," Malcolm says, kissing down Gil's chest and squeezing his hips. Gil lets out a quiet, cut-off groan, smacking his head back against the marble as Malcolm starts mouthing over his cock. " _Mmm,_ Daddy...please, can I?"

"I don't know—ah, _Bright—_ I don't know if you _should_ , you're kinda—"

Malcolm stops. He sets his jaw, rocks back on his heels, and looks up at him. "Kind of what?"

Gil shakily breathes out, taking a moment to respond—and Malcolm doesn't give him the chance.

"You're right," he says. “Forget it.”

Gil seems to barely be able to form any reply at all. Turned on, but he doesn’t want Malcolm. Not here or now. _Fine._

“M-Malcolm, h—hold on—”

Malcolm doesn’t. He doesn’t _want_ to. He leaves Gil in the stall, snatches his bags from the ground, and leaves without a glance back.

* * *

Gil never _entirely_ loses Malcolm.

It’s a big mall, and, if he didn’t know his boy as well as he does, he might have been a lot more worried. But Malcolm has stormed off in far worse states of mind, and Gil has always, _always_ found him. He’s confident he always will. And here, with a map at his fingertips and most of the luxury stores in one corner, he’s fairly sure it’s one of the easiest times there’s been.

He wants to give him time. Clearly there’s something going on, but Malcolm nearly never understands _what._ It's rare for him to figure it out enough to tell Gil exactly what's wrong, or why he feels the way he does. He's gotten better at acknowledging it, at least; not _so_ often excusing his bad days away with _I'm fine_ and _Don't worry about me._ Gil had made it clear that only made him worry _more,_ that he needed Malcolm to be open with him, to stay and talk instead of walking off, if this was going to work, and he sees just how hard Malcolm tries to do so. Sometimes he can't, and that's okay. It's a process, one Gil will be able to help him better even more in the years to come. He’s been especially emotional, lately, and Gil doesn’t want to hold that against him, knowing the reason why.

But he doesn't want to give him _too_ much time, because Malcolm tends to use time to himself when he's feeling bad to do things he shouldn't. There's nothing dangerous at the mall, thankfully, and Malcolm doesn't have another way home, especially not carrying all those bags, so Gil knows he's _here._ He just has to be patient.

He finds his boy through the window of one of the more ridiculously priced stores, and he waits outside for him. No _real_ use in stopping him; it’s still not the healthiest way to cope, but Malcolm could probably buy out the entire place and not even put a dent in his bank account, so Gil figures there’s some things he can let go.

Malcolm looks _ridiculous_ when he comes out, sporting large jeweled sunglasses—Gil doesn’t even know the last time he saw the kid _wear_ sunglasses—and another huge bag on one arm, both of which are _surely_ aching by now.

Gil only knows Malcolm sees him by the sudden hitch in his step, and the way he stands there awkwardly with his chin half tilted down like Gil’s going to scold him as he approaches. Gil can see the regret etched in the lines on his forehead, can imagine just how his eyes look even behind the lenses, and he doesn’t want to make it worse. He knows Malcolm didn’t mean to, and he knows he’s sorry. They’ll talk more about it later, at home, when Malcolm’s in a better mindset.

“Feel better?” Gil asks instead, gesturing to the glasses, and Malcolm sighs, pulling them off. He looks exhausted, even more than usual, more than just a while ago. He looks so awfully troubled, and Gil just wants to hold him until things are okay again.

“No. I don’t even like them.”

Gil curls one finger round the price tag still hanging off the side and whistles. " _Damn._ Lot to spend on something you don't like..."

Malcolm tsks, shrugging, and then finds the nearest person, approaches them, and says, “Merry Christmas,” before placing the glasses in their hands. He then returns to Gil's side, and nudges him as they start to walk forward again.

“I’m keeping the purse, though."

“What color?”

“Pink. Look.”

Gil peers into the bag Malcolm holds up, nodding his approval. “That’s nice. A real statement. I’d keep it, too.”

“I could buy you one…”

“I will not wear a purse.”

“Your choice. I got shoes, too.”

“...Heels?”

“Maybe.”

“...Are they pink, too?”

Malcolm giggles mischievously, and Gil thinks he might _die_ just from the thought. A bit luckily and a bit not, Malcolm changes the subject.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have gone off. Damn it, Gil, I...really don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I didn’t mean to get upset.”

“And I didn’t mean what you thought I did,” Gil says, offering his hand and smiling when Malcolm takes it. “I didn’t mean something was wrong with you, or that I didn’t want you. I just worry about how you cope with your feelings...if you’re really consenting, or you’re just trying to work through something with sex.”

“I know,” Malcolm says, leaning his head against him. “My head’s just all…ugh.”

Gil gently squeezes the back of his neck, and Malcolm’s eyes slide closed with a sigh. “Think it’s time to go home? I got everything I need.”

Malcolm takes a deep breath and sighs it out, blinking up at him. “Yeah...yeah. Me too. And my arms hurt. And I need to pee.”

“You sure you don’t want me to carry something?” Gil asks, and then shrugs when Malcolm shakes his head. “Okay. Out that way, then. Bathroom’s on the way.”

It takes all of ten minutes, when they’ve just gotten everything into the back of Gil’s car, when Malcolm starts whimpering again as he slides into the passenger seat. He sounds like he’s in pain...and Gil feels awful, getting into his side and about to ask if his boy thinks he needs to see the doctor—

Only it definitely, _certainly_ wasn’t pain, because Malcolm’s got his hand down his pants, staring at Gil with hooded eyes and his mouth hung open to pant.

“ _Oh,_ ” Gil says, and Malcolm bites his lip, squirming, legs kicking out as he spreads them.

“Please,” he moans. “I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m so...please at least _kiss_ me…”

Gil turns on the car, just enough to get the air on, and then gets up on his knee, leaning over Malcolm and yanking the lever to get the seat flat before settling over him to do just that.

“ _Fuck—”_

“Dirty little mouth,” Gil says, wedging his knee between Malcolm’s thighs and rubbing it gently up. “You’re a _needy_ little thing lately, aren’t you? Maybe that’s what’s wrong...you just need your Daddy, huh?”

“ _Gil,_ ” Malcolm whimpers, grabbing Gil around the waist and tugging him down closer, and Gil kisses him again, _hard,_ slides his hand up under Malcolm’s shirt and teases at one of his nipples. Malcolm gasps into his mouth, whines _desperately,_ his hand working himself between them.

Gil slides his kisses down along Malcolm’s jaw, bites at his ear and murmurs into it, “How wet are you for me, baby?” and Malcolm _comes,_ fingers digging into Gil’s back as he shudders and shakes and whimpers his way through it.

Gil sits up, startled, rubbing over Malcolm’s chest. “That good?” he asks with a smirk, and Malcolm finally takes a breath in, eyes opening wide.

“Holy _shit_...I...I’m sorry, I…”

“ _Hey,_ ” Gil says, kissing him gently, sliding his hand down to Malcolm’s stomach. “I want you to feel good, kid. Maybe that _is_ what you needed. You do get... _tense,_ when Daddy doesn’t take care of you…”

“Daddy always takes care of me,” Malcolm murmurs, and then suddenly winces, pushing Gil’s hand away. “Home, though. Please. I have to pee.”

Gil sits back. “Didn’t you just…?”

Malcolm gives him the weirdest look. “So?”

Gil frowns, and looks down where Malcolm’s hand is still resting on his belly. Malcolm follows his gaze, and there's a moment neither of them move before Malcolm's hand slams out and grabs onto the door handle so tight his knuckles go white. He pants like Gil just accidentally _kneed_ him, and Gil braces himself on the center console.

“You’ve been feeling nauseous when you wake up...your mood swings—”

“ _Oh._ I need to—”

“The doctor,” Gil says. “Yeah. Right now.”

“Holy shit...oh, shit...” Malcolm _wheezes,_ reaching up to dig his fingers into Gil’s arm. “Am I—?”

“ _Breathe,_ ” Gil whispers, petting through his hair. “Hey. _Hey._ We don’t know! It could be nothing!”

“I’ve had to go more—and I’m _hungry._ I’m never hungry! But the test was—I thought it was just—”

“Oh, boy.”

“Oh, God, oh, _fuck me_ —”

“Hey! Relax, okay? Just relax, Bright—”

“I _can’t,_ I have to _piss!”_ Malcolm whines, and Gil can’t stop the laugh that comes out as he kisses Malcolm gently.

When he pulls away, Malcolm is looking up at him, far too terrified for Gil’s liking.

“What if…?” Malcolm whispers. “I—I know...I _know_ you said—but—but if I _am—_ ”

“Oh, Bright.” Gil kisses him again, and again, nuzzling against his hair. "What I said, I meant. I'd love nothing more than to have a family with you, Malcolm. I promise you. Don't you believe me?"

"I almost _can't,_ " Malcolm whispers, reaching up to cup Gil's cheek. "You're...too much. Too _good..._ for me."

"Funny," Gil says. "I think the same thing about you every day."

Malcolm ducks his head, looks away shyly and reaches up to press his knuckles to his mouth. Gil takes his other hand, kissing it gently, and then gets back into the driver’s seat.

“No panicking until we get a test. Okay? Could be something else.”

“Okay,” Malcolm says, taking a deep breath and nodding. “Okay.”

They’re halfway to the nearest urgent care when Malcolm takes Gil’s hand on the wheel and whispers, “I don’t want it to be something else.”

“No?” Gil asks, clearing his throat and blinking to make sure he doesn’t tear up.

“No,” Malcolm murmurs, pushing his face into Gil’s shoulder. “I want your baby.” He smiles, and touches his stomach, and says, “Ours.”

Gil squeezes his hand, and doesn’t let go.

* * *

He doesn’t believe them, at first.

They test him _twice,_ and both of them are _positive._

“That’s not even…” he tries, shaking his head. He refuses to believe it, _can’t—_ he’s too scared of finding out otherwise, of slipping back into wherever he’d been before, because he can’t handle that again. It just doesn’t make _sense._ “I was negative! I haven’t felt anything!”

They tell him at-home tests can be wrong, especially if the urine is diluted, or it was taken too early, but he still doesn’t _believe_ them.

Gil is pale, but his eyes are bright. He’s listening to everything, even if he looks like he can barely process it, and he ends up taking in more than Malcolm, repeating things Malcolm missed to make sure he understands.

“I need to know,” Malcolm says, because he _has_ to. He’s terrified. He’s shaking and even throws up in the bathroom, and they have to give him an anti-nausea pill before leading him back into one of the rooms.

He ends up flat on his back, his shirt tucked up to his ribs while a woman drips _horribly_ cold slime all over his skin and starts pressing in with an ultrasound wand.

Gil stays right beside him, of course. Never leaves his side for a moment, holding his hand as it trembles violently.

He doesn’t dare to breathe, even when Gil politely reminds him to. Even when Gil presses his lips to Malcolm’s ear and kisses there and promises everything’s going to be okay, no matter what.

And then—

“Right there,” the woman says, and points.

It doesn’t look like much. It doesn’t look like _anything,_ really.

“Wh...what’s that?” Malcolm whispers, staring with wide eyes, and she smiles at them.

It’s a knowing smile, something so sweet and kind and _telling._

“Oh my God,” Gil says, clutching at his hand for dear life. “That’s—”

“About six weeks, I’d say,” she says. “We’ll be able to know more as time goes on.”

“It’s—” Malcolm _whimpers_ , looking from the screen to his stomach and back again. “A _baby?_ ”

She laughs, and nods. She _nods._ She clicks a picture, wipes the gunk off Malcolm’s belly with the cloth and says, “Congratulations.”

 _A baby._ The test had been... _wrong_. The entire time they’d thought they failed, when really—

“Oh my _God_ ,” Gil says again, taking Malcolm’s other hand and holding them both together, looking down at him. “Bright—”

Malcolm feels like he’s in shock, feels like he might _faint_. The most overwhelming sensation of _contentment_ he’s ever felt in all his life falls over him, and he starts to cry, looking up at Gil and smiling.

“A baby,” he says again, tugging Gil closer. “Ours.”

“Ours,” Gil repeats, and laughs, kissing Malcolm and then pressing their foreheads together. “My beautiful Bright boy.”

Malcolm giggles through his tears, feels Gil’s wetting his hair and face, too. She hands him a print of the tiniest little thing he’s ever seen—the most _beautiful_ thing, somehow, not anything and yet _everything—_ and he wraps his arms around Gil, pulls him close as he stares at it.

Theirs.

Something good. This is something _good._ He won’t let it be anything else. _They_ won’t.

He presses his palm between them, over their _child,_ and Gil moves just enough he can place his hand over Malcolm’s.

God, Malcolm has never in his life known a completeness like this.

“I love you,” Gil whispers. “Will you marry me?”

Malcolm chokes out another laugh, and nods. “Yes. I love you. Yes, of course, _yes!”_

Gil coos against his neck, kissing it and holding him tighter like he never plans to let go. Malcolm hopes he doesn’t. He’s fine to stay here, in this moment, forever, even when now, there’s more to look forward to in his future than ever before.

Malcolm closes his eyes, crying into Gil’s shoulder, the picture held tight between his fingers.

For the very first time, he’s not afraid at all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, are 18+, all-ships positive, and you wanna talk about these cute boys and other fun stuff with some cool ass Prodigies, perhaps come hang out on our new Prodigal Son server [Prodigal Songbirbs 🕊️!](https://discord.gg/eQ3TK4bxn4)


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